Ending G: The REAL True Ending
by FriendlyNeighborhoodDinoTor
Summary: Title from the endings A-F on the game. This is the story of Jude East and her hard hitting story in Willamette and the brewing national turmoil. Rated T for violence and language. I have not played DR2 yet, Dammit, so this is all the first one.
1. Daddy Dearest Hates Willamette

"And you're positive you wanna cover this story, East?" The head of the newspaper asked her. He was confused by her staggered interest; one day she was completely psyched, then a few days later… not so much. Then she informed him of her father's disproval of her taking the story; but why would he care?

All the story consisted of was getting the details on the quarantine on Willamette, Colorado. There had been a deadly disease –that much was leaked– but the government covered up the event, and shut up every surviving witness. As far as they knew… The anonymous witness who had given the lone fact that the place was quarantined and government erased, they'd disappeared off of the face of the earth. 

Jude clutched her folder close to her chest; the idea haunted and invited her. She knew she had to be ready. "I need to know exactly what happened in that nameless crap-hole of a town. Yes, I am sure." Of course, why would she want to know so badly? Some people got sick, big whoop. Why would the government care about this? 

Her boss looked her up and down in some sort of evaluation of her readiness. "Alright, Jude, pack up your camera, laptop, and clothes: You're headed to Willamette." His final decision was based on one factor alone: No one else wanted the story, but her.

She smiled and patted him on the shoulder. The part of her that wanted the story was thrilled; the part of her that feared the story, the part that wanted nothing to do with it, however, was thrilled none at all.

She watched her father carefully as he took a sip of wine; she knew how he felt about the Willamette story, telling him would be no easy feat. "So what's the occasion?" He asked. "You never take me out without a reason."

"Well, Dad, it's sort of a celebration." She took a swig of her own wine, hoping he was happy and content with his food and drink.

"It is, is it? What are we celebrating; a man or a baby?" He laughed a raspy old laugh.

"Neither, you know better. I got a new story, a big one."

His eyes lit up "You got a war? You're turnin' out to be just like your old man after all."

"No Dad, not a war," She took a breath and looked into his deep brown eyes. "I took the Willamette story, Dad."

He set down his drink angrily. "I'm pretty sure I told you to stay away from that Willamette story. It's a dangerous topic that I don't want you involved in."

"Dad, listen," She placed both hands on the table. "I can take care of myself, really. Why can't you understand that? I'm not your naive little shithead teenager anymore. You can't box me up now, you never have before."

He drummed his fingers on the table. "Kiddo, I can't box you up, never could. I don't doubt your control, confidence, strength or anything." He stopped and looked away a moment before returning to her. "Don't be disappointed at what you find, or don't find."

Jude slurped up the hope of approval from her father. "So then you approve of me taking this story?"

"No, but I trust you enough to let you," He flashed her an old, worn out smile.

Jude smiled back, just happy he wasn't angry. "Love you, Daddy."

"Love you, too, Kiddo." he sighed. "Time to hit the dusty trail, I wanna see you off in the morning. What time are you leaving?"

"8:30, I want you at the helipad at eight o' clock sharp. Got it?"

"Got it, Judey," He smiled knowing he should go home and scavenger for his mushy heart-felt present. 


	2. Wash The Blood Off

When Jude arrived home, she looked about her empty apartment. The only occupant on the wall a triple picture frame; the frame held three images of her and her father; one of her at the age of two, one of her at the age of ten, and yet another at the age sixteen. It was odd seeing the changes of her face, and the never changing face of her father. He never seemed a day over thirty-five. She knew he was the only one who seemed to love her, from these birthday memories. She had no clue about her mother, grandmothers, and grandfathers; to her they were all dead.

Of course, she had tried to ask before, always the same response came to her:

"She was a beautiful lady, much like yourself," He would say ruffling her hair. "A very beautiful lady," She would ask no more about her after that, she could see in his eyes and hear in his voice the sadness it brought.

In the meantime, her father dug into his closet. After a long while, he came across what his quest's goal was. "I haven't touched this thing in years... Haven't touched it since we moved here, Isabella." He looked over to a small jar containing a thin, pink ribbon. "Wish you could see her now... She got our dashing good looks..."

He looked back down at the camera in his hands, after having his quick one sided conversation with the small piece of material. "Well I guess I should get this blood off of it before I give it to her."

- - -

"Where the hell is he?" She checked the time on her cell phone impatiently. The time read 8:10 Ugh that bastard's always late... She thought to herself. She turned to the man in the helicopter and apologized. "My dad wants to see me off. He's iffy about me leavin'."

"I gotcha, I can't say I blame him. Why, with a pretty girl like you I'd be worried, too," She knew he was either one of two things: desperate, or trying to get extra money out of her. Not to say that she was ugly, but she was no model. Even she had no idea what her mother looked like, she'd gotten the worst trait from her father: A very, very wide nose.

She detoured her thoughts of self-consciousness by focusing on her pilot. The man's beard made his laugh just slightly more annoying to Jude. Somehow it just did. A red colored beard matching his odd thin comb-over made his appearance cheesey. As if the hair and fattened face were bad enough, his outdated sunglasses made everything worse for him.

She smiled at him. "I like your shades," She complimented him, trying to make small talk.

The helicopter pilot grinned a toothy grin made of complete goofiness. "Thanks, they were my dad's. He was a helicopter pilot, too, y'know."

"Jude!" She turned to her father waving his arms, moving at an odd jog. She giggled at his silly visage. "I brought ya somethin'," He said approaching her. When he handed her the camera, he drank in her wondrous expression as she took it in her hands.

"Was this-?"

With a grin he nodded "Yeah, this was mine. Went through my biggest story with me." She smiled at him, knowing that of all the Daddy-Daughter moments, this was the most heartfelt for them. "I wanted it to go through yours, too."

With an even wider smile, she hugged him. "Thanks, Dad, I love it." She turned to the helicopter. "Well I gotta go! Love you!" She trotted to the helicopter, hopping in the side. She watched him from the opening as the helicopter took flight. Her father waved goodbye and even shouted "Love ya sweetie!" Not that she heard him; but he'd never been… the brightest. Which was a wonder how he survived.

A sudden wave of lethargy swept over him, he knew exactly what needed to happen. He charged for his car, hoping he had enough time to speed home and search. "Hope I remember where... I hope I remember..." He started the ignition. "Where did I put it…?"

"So your name's _Jude_, huh?" The pilot asked over the roar.

She laughed. "Yeah, it is,"

"Ah, like that old Beatles' song, right?" He began singing the song she had been listening to her whole life - for the obvious reason. "So what exactly are you hoping to find in this no-namer?"

"Well someone else came down here hoping to find something, and never found it. They never found _him_. So I want to figure it all out." She twirled the obsolete camera in her hand _Oh,_ She thought to herself, perking up. _I bet Dad's old photos are on here..._

The first picture appearing on the screen of the old camera that she powered up was of a Hispanic looking woman with long black hair and green penetrating eyes. Jude pulled out her cell phone, quickly deciding against calling up her father to ask if the woman was her mother.

She only stared a few minutes, the next photo she took a double take on. In this image a woman had the focused zoomed on her as she was being attacked by the mouths and hands of other fellow citizens. "Oh my... Dad what is this...?" She muttered to herself. The pictures only got worse.

The next image showed a mob of tired looking citizens attacking a school bus, an enflamed gas station with a hunched-over man walking away- on fire, a woman atop of a roof shooting at a roof full of these sleepy city-goers, the next was this woman flailing her arms at the camera, the next was her falling with a man attached to her, the next was them hitting the pavement in a bloody mess.

Of course there were more pictures, but Jude barely could bring herself to look at them. Never in her life had she seen such disturbing images! She looked out into the bright day, hoping the beaming sun would distract her from the nauseous feeling deep inside her stomach. _What kind of sick story did he cover? Was this __**trash**__ his "biggest story"?_ Her mind rattled within.

The pictures were normal -to an extent- for a while. People were yelling at and arguing with each other. Some were crying, and some elderly person was shaking their cane at the camera. Then, once again, the pictures grew abnormal. The people flooded the mall, their faces were surreal! Flesh seemed to be missing in some places, their eyes glowed red, and blood covered them from head to toe. They were out to get the man with the camera: The man with the camera being her father.


End file.
